


A Breath Of Useless Air

by glass_knife



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Death, Confusion, Connor Deserves Happiness, Depressed Hank Anderson, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gavin Reed Redemption, Machine Upgraded Connor | RK900, Misunderstandings, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Connor, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-07-25 03:19:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glass_knife/pseuds/glass_knife
Summary: Connor’s pretty sure he’s aware of all of his features. After all, he’s had 3 years to explore himself since becoming deviant. Yet as a result of a tragic accident a feature he was well aware of catches him by surprise as he finds himself in a body he doesn’t recognize.





	1. Out of Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it's kind of late to be posting Detroit become human fanfiction, but better late then never I suppose.

The first thing he felt was pain.

 

A somber recollection of something that he couldn’t place. A voice, a pleading voice within his mind and silver hairs next to his face _where am I_ , he thought... and then it was dark.

 

Connor died on July 15th, 2041, 3 years after the revolution.

 

\---

 

Now all he feels is panic.

 

A pounding in his head, and the inability to breathe. He can feel his circuitry pulse… _where am I?_ He wants to keep his eyes shut tight but he knows he can’t do that forever. Instead, he lets them flutter open and gaze upon his surroundings. He’s in a dump, somewhere deep in the outskirts of Detroit-is he still in Detroit?

 

_Hank._

 

His mind glitches as the memories flow through him. Hank was right next to him, crying, pleading, begging… _holding_ . But why, and where is he now? _Why am I here?_ His mind fails to provide an answer. He feels like he’s floating but his head is on fire. Then, suddenly... understanding blooms in him like a small flower.

 

“I’m dead.”

 

It starts as a whisper, a sudden realization, a plea, but it grows into something bigger.

 

“I’m DEAD”

 

It’s louder this time, a call for help, a lie, a misunderstanding. This can’t be right, it just can’t be.

 

**_“I’M DEAD”_ **

 

He’s screaming now, writhing around in this abandoned junkyard, lost, scared, yelling and crying, and calling. But then he stops. And he breathes. And he thinks.

 

Hank wouldn’t let _me_ be here.

 

If he was truly dead, he wouldn’t be ANYWHERE. Not in a comfy grave, (which Hank surely would have provided) and certainly not here. But he _is_ here, he just needs to figure out _why_. But first, he has to get some evidence to prove that he’s alive.

 

He looks at his hands, which ground him as he slowly brings them to his core. He has to test this out. Doubt fills his head but he doesn’t let it get to him, and he willfully ignores the ache in his chest as his thirium pump gains speed. All he thinks are four words, which fill his mind like clouds fill the sky. _I can’t be dead I can’t be dead I can’t be dead_ **_I can’t be dead_ ** _._ He hears them over and over, preparing him for disappointment. But disappointment never comes.

 

Instead, he’s met with the sensation of his cool palm on his open chassis.

He can hear himself gasp for air he doesn’t need.

 

And as the wave of joy crashes over him, Connor realizes...

 

he’s still alive.

 

\---

 

Hank is grieving.

 

He tells himself he’s not, he tells himself that he shouldn’t be, he tells himself that wherever Connor is he’s happy but he was just so young. Hank can feel the memories flood his head, every happy moment taking more out of him than the last. It’s been mere hours since Connor’s untimely demise and Hank can feel himself falling apart, ripping at the seams.

 

_I should have been the one taking that bullet._

 

He can feel his shame spread, mixing with his grief and creating an unbearable cacophony of pain. Soon his brain will start its barrage of blame. He should have known better, he shouldn’t have been so reckless, he should have done more, _he should have_ **_he should have._ ** But now Connor is dead.

 

And it’s all his fault.

 

\---

 

He doesn’t understand.

 

Even as he grips his chassis with all his strength, he doesn’t understand. He’s still alive but there seems to be no reason behind it, and he can only wonder  _why_ as his head seems to be providing no answers to his onslaught of questions.

 

All he knows is that he’s alive even though he’s not supposed to be.

He can feel himself shrivel up at the thought. What possibly could have happened that made this real? What happened to him?

“Why am I here,” he asks the air around him.

 

It sounds more like a plea than a question. But Connor’s scared, and all alone for the first time in years. It’s disorienting. He’s supposed to be an adult yet here he is in a junkyard weeping like a child.

 

_Pathetic._

 

His mind supplies and Connor knows it’s right. But before he gets a chance to dwell on his thoughts, he feels the cool iron of a gun graze the back of his head.

 

Shit.

 

\---

 

Hank is in a bar.

 

He hasn’t been in one for two and a half years but he's in one now.

 

He promised Connor that he wouldn’t drink away his problems, he swore that he would find better coping mechanisms. But it all feels like a faraway dream now that his only hope for a future is gone. As he reaches for his shot he can sense his promises crumble beneath him. And with five other drinks whirling around in his gut, he can’t see himself ever quitting again. The floaty feeling in his gut is as persuasive as it used to be.  

 

All he wants to do is forget. He doesn’t want to think about the guilt or the nice memories of Connor in his head. He doesn’t want to count his losses because he’s had too many. It all just feels too unfair to bear.

 

 _Ignorance bliss_ , his mind helpfully provides.

And Hank has to agree, so he takes another shot.

 

\---

 

Connor desperately wants to turn around.

 

To grip the stranger's hand and break it into bits, but he’s powerless to do so. There’s too much fog in his head to even think about preconstruction, so Connor decides to follow along with whatever he’s told to do.

 

He doesn’t want to die again.

 

“What?” the intruder stammers, horror clear in his voice “How-how are you up?”

 

Connor feels the gun tremble against his head, but he doesn’t risk grabbing it, the chances of bad consequences too high for his liking. Instead, he stays perfectly still, patiently waiting for the stranger’s next words, hoping they’re more cohesive than his previous attempts at speech.

 

“I thought— Ralph doesn’t understand!” _fuck,_ yet another incoherent sentence.

 

Connor can feel anger fill his brain like toxic air. Why doesn’t this moron just let him go? But before any more frustration can seep into his mind he’s hit with a sudden wave of recollection. Ralph, Kara, Alice. Remembering that case so clearly now, he thinks of all he can remember. An android mother desperately trying to escape with her child, hiding in an abandoned shack to protect her daughter from the cold. But that wasn’t all of it, was it? His wires twitch as the memories rush back.

 

_Ralph._

 

He can recall the arrest, one of the worst he’d ever experienced. The android wasn’t hard to catch per se, but he more than made up for his lack of evasiveness in other ways. Scatterbrained and fearful, the gardener seemed to glitch at the most inconvenient of moments. But the way he spoke was the worst part of it, always saying his name, seemingly unable to use pronouns. He was what Cyberlife always told him deviants looked like. He felt such pity for the deviant back then, but now all he can feel is regret. He’s going to die because Ralph wants revenge.

 

And he can’t help but think… what a miserable way to go.

 

\---

 

Ralph never liked visitors.

 

From the humans that came by so many years ago, leaving scars on Ralph’s face, to that pair of androids that got Ralph in jail. Ralph knows he can’t trust anyone.

 

Except for RK.

 

When Ralph was finally freed from prison after the revolution, Ralph ran away. Ralph didn’t know where to go, but Ralph wanted seclusion more than anything.

 

And then Ralph found the junkyard. Old, useless, and dehumanizing, it scared Ralph at first, but Ralph knew it was the only option. Ralph had already scavenged for miles, looking for a place where he could be alone, but the revolution left a lot of other androids without a home. Most were willing to share their space, but Ralph wasn’t okay with a roommate. So Ralph stayed in the only place where nobody would go, an abandoned home for the many android corpses the revolution left behind. At first, Ralph thought the junkyard would be a temporary shelter, a place to sleep while Ralph looked for a better home. But as weeks turned to months and months turned to years Ralph realized that the junkyard was his permanent residence.

 

And soon Ralph began to feel lonely.

 

The sudden lack of interaction started to become upsetting and Ralph grew restless. Soon Ralph found himself scavenging the junkyard for a friend, a companion, a thing Ralph could talk to. And after months of fruitless search… Ralph finally succeeded.

 

Ralph found the RK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of my fic!
> 
> This is the first fanfic I've ever written so I hope it's not too bad. I plan to continue it with semi-frequent updates (I already have a couple of chapters at the ready so I should be posting more or less frequently right now). Credit to my 5 amazing beta readers for looking it over, can't thank you guys enough!
> 
> -Veriko


	2. Joy and Misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter being kind of short, I hope that the frequent updating makes up for it though.  
> Hope you enjoy anyway. Next chapter is pretty long so be ready for the big update (I plan to publish it on Friday, maybe earlier because I tend to be very impatient).
> 
> -Veriko

Hank doesn’t know where he is.

 

And honestly, he doesn’t care. All he knows is that he’s absolutely shitfaced and that Connor isn’t here to help him anymore.

 

_Connor._

 

His mind twists in pain as shards of recollection pierce his skull. He gets the sudden urge to vomit. _God damn it._ He shouldn’t have let that criminal scum sneak up on him because then Connor would still be… **_fuck_** _._ The guilt of it all gets to him more than Hank could ever admit out loud, but the welcome buzz of alcohol helps him numb the pain of his new, crushing loss.

 

He looks over at Jimmy and asks for a refill. The bartender barely pays him any mind. Hank asks again. Jimmy glances at him and sighs, sadness visible on his worn features. He shakes his head grimly and pours Hank some whiskey (less than he normally does) begging him to promise that this one will be his last. Hank says what he thinks will get Jimmy off his back, but does so without any promises. Yet the man behind the bar already knows his tricks. So when Hank asks for yet another refill he gets a resounding _no._ He isn't surprised in the slightest. 

 

Hank is well aware that he's an ungrateful shit. So many people that care about him surround his day to day life but none of it seems to matter right now. All he wants is to see Connor once more, to look into his big doe eyes and let all of this be a bad dream. The android always had such pretty eyes.

 

But Hank still doesn't want to think anymore, so as soon as he's done with the remains of his drink he walks a couple steps away from the bar (making sure he's out of Jimmy's direct line of sight) and lets himself tumble onto the hardwood floor. His body stings from the impact but he ignores it. Nothing can match the unbearable ache in his chest that always comes with the loss of a person he was so damn close to. His back is going to hurt like hell when he gets up, so he doesn’t get up, and he doesn’t plan on changing that.

 

\---

 

Connor is very surprised.

 

He’s been as still as a statue for two minutes straight, with his eyes shut tight and his hands curled into fists. He was expecting a bullet to fly through his skull at any moment during minute one, but now that some time has passed, he can feel some of his muscles relaxing, and he takes a breath to calm down.

 

Maybe he’s not going to die after all.

 

But if Ralph isn’t planning to kill him, what does he want? And why is that lunatic so confused? What would a crazed gardener want from him?

 

“Stand up.” The command is short and to the point, a power grab that cuts right through Connor’s train of thought and causes a surge of panic deep within him. He stays motionless for a few seconds and expectantly waits for the cool metal of the gun to disappear from behind his head (he needs space to move after all) but it never goes away.

 

“RALPH TOLD YOU TO STAND UP!” it’s a demand this time, an unavoidable trade-off that could cost Connor his life if he’s not careful, so Connor listens, slowly rising from his sitting position up onto his knees and continuing up until he’s standing. He’s taller than he remembers, but that doesn’t seem important right now.

 

“Now turn and face Ralph.” a calm request, Connor can go along with that. He feels the cool iron of the gun move from its place on the back of his head and he can hear Ralph’s cautious footsteps move away from him.

 

He turns around slowly, and Ralph gasps with joy.

  

Connor watches in horror as the android in front of him chokes on words.

He glares as Ralph gurgles and rumbles.

 

He can feel terror pulse in his wires, but he forces his face to stay expressionless as he gazes upon the gardener in front of him. He’s trying his best to analyze as much as he can, desperately searching for clues about his situation. Of course, nothing comes up. The android in front of him simply displays signs of uncanny excitement, which is something Connor expected.

 

What he doesn’t expect is what happens next.

 

Ralph simply decides to drop the gun.

 

He does so without warning and the sound startles Connor out of his thoughts, which causes his expression to shift into mild concern. This for no logical reason seems to deeply upset Ralph and Connor watches in horror as the android in front of him skips towards him and engulfs him in a loving hug. Why is this android so damn attached to him?

 

Connor doesn’t understand the sudden shift in tone but it seems he doesn’t have to. His main objective right now is to free himself from the sudden invasion of privacy that Ralph just thrust upon him. A quick pre-construction shows him the best way to get this situation under control. Grab the gun. So Connor quickly finagles himself from Ralph’s tight grip and makes a mad dash for the weapon in front of him.

 

Sadly, he never makes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honey, you've got a big storm comin'.


	3. Fight or Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaa oh my god, I am so impatient. I know I said I would post this chapter on Friday but I can't hold onto it any longer! Hope you enjoy this one cause it's a doozie.

The RK900 was a model made for investigational purposes.

 

A perfect detective designed to work flawlessly in any scenario. An emotionless machine, created to succeed in any task without question.

 

Efficient, resilient, and certainly intelligent.

Cyberlife’s best and brightest.

 

Yet as Nines awakens from his freshly finished reboot he is hit with what seems to be an unexpected error.

 

He is already in motion, even though he just booted up his systems.

 

\---

 

Someone is poking Hank’s shoulder.

 

It’s very annoying, and Hank is well aware that normally something like this would make his blood boil, but right now it’s nowhere near inconvenient enough to warrant any kind of reaction. So Hank decides to use all the focus he has left to think about something that decidedly _isn’t_ the feeling of someone’s grimy finger burrowing into his shoulder blade.

 

It doesn’t work for very long.

 

Because soon the sensation becomes too much to bear, and Hank finds himself clenching every muscle in his body to ignore the frustration building deep within him. _I just wanted to lay down for fuck's sake,_ ** _is that too much to ask_** _._

 

Yet the stranger seems resilient as ever, each prod more direct than its predecessor. _What does this dickhead want_ _?_ Hank can only wonder. But if he knows one thing for sure it’s that if this douche keeps this assault on his shoulder up for much longer, he might just get a little more action than he’s ready for.

 

But Hank (out of the kindness of his heart) decides to give this unlucky fellow 3 more chances to bail.

 

one prod,

_two prod,_

**_three_ ** _..._

 

But the third never comes because Hank finds himself being violently flipped over in a weird show of dominance. It makes every inch of him rope-tight. Yet as his eyes decide to take their sweet time to readjust to the sudden change of lighting, he finds himself recognizes the face of the man who’s been pestering him for what felt like an eternity.

 

Hank hopes that his eyes are lying to him because the face he sees…

 

belongs to Gavin **_motherfucking_** Reed.

 

\---

 

Connor is perplexed.

No, he’s completely stumped.

 

One second he was sprinting towards the gun, the next his body went stiff as a board as he plummeted to the ground.

 

At first, he had to admit, it seemed kind of funny. He could only imagine how goofy he looked as he collapsed on the concrete in his botched escape attempt. He truly thought that he just tripped.

 

But that was 4 seconds ago, and now that the situation has started to set in, Connor sees how this might be a _big_ problem.

 

He tries to keep his cool, using his manmade investigational talents to come up with a normal sounding solution _._ He does a quick check for errors, but there don’t seem to be any. He looks for issues in his biocomponents, none come up. And before he knows it he’s ruled out every feasible answer to this _very_ serious problem.

 

But then something happens.

 

He can feel a ghostly sensation of pinpricks travel up his robotic spine and he’s met with there’s a progress bar in front of his eyes. And now Connor is outright **_panicking_**. He’s desperately trying to read the small bits of text as they fly by, but his eyes feel out of focus… and soon enough he begins to feel something akin to sleepiness cover him like a warm fleece blanket.

 

He watches lazily as washed out code runs on the inside of his eyelids, and soon enough he can sense his taut muscles relaxing into what he can only describe as putty. The sea of ones and zeros falls on top of him and he plummets beneath the waves of it, feeling too comfy to resist the code’s gentle pull.

 

As he sinks deeper and deeper into the warm, text-filled water he can only wonder why this feels similar to shutting down but without the pain, or the fear. Connor doesn’t mind either way. Soon enough he feels like he’s okay with this fate until a very special person pops into his mind.

 

**_Hank_ **

 

The man’s name feels like a raft above water. He can only imagine what his poor partner is going through, after all, he has no idea that Connor’s still alive. The mere thought makes him shiver, and the light movement is rewarded with clearing in his vision. _So there is a way out_ , Connor thinks briefly before forcing himself to continue thinking about the Lieutenant.

 

He thinks of their years together as friends and about that wonderful time at the park they had one Sunday morning. He recalls the feeling of joy as the two of them walked under the trees, without a care in the world. Each thought brings him closer to the surface of the water he was once trapped under and as the memories keep flooding in he knows he would fight to be next to Hank once more.

 

To see how much the man’s grown and to show him how proud he is yet as the fog in his head continues to clear Connor has to redirect his energy into finding an answer to the problem he’s stuck in. And soon enough he finally grasps the situation fully.

 

He remembers this awful technique from his Cyberlife days, and he can still recall the manuals that displayed how to turn on defense systems in case of a virus. Amanda was always called efficient, but some thought that she was too slow, so a reinvention appeared. An anti-virus that was meant to clear androids of deviancy. And now Connor is in disbelief because this can only mean one thing…

 

there’s another android inside his body.

 

\---

 

Nines dislikes inconveniences.

 

The whole point of his existence was set on being the most effective, after all.

 

So as soon as Nines comprehended what the error had been, (which only took him a record-setting 4.27 seconds) he administered the anti-virus without the slightest bit of hesitation. Yet, he was met with underwhelming results.

 

At first, the anti-virus seemed to be highly effective, reaching 89.6% in the few seconds it was active. But one and a half minutes after it was deployed something went arigh. The deviant seemed to have administered yet another virus, which caused the malfunction Nines was attempting to fix at this very moment.

 

Small glitches fired off left and right which forced Nines to play whack a mole. The new small line of code seemed close to a cure for the anti deviant mechanism Nines had just utilized which was highly disheartening. The deviant had simply been too strong-willed for the newly invented line anti-virus to be any good.

 

Nines was an astonishing problem solver, but he was in no way a magician. This task would simply have to be an unfortunate stain on Nine's newly made record.

 

A failed mission that Nines could do nothing about.

 

Software Instability ^

 

 _What an inconvenience_.

 

\---

 

“What the fuck do you want _Reed_.” Hank makes sure to tug out the “e” in the young detective's name, knowing full well that it annoys the shit out him. He can feel his anger sizzle in his chest, burning his insides with its all-consuming flame.

 

Reed is the ** _last person_** he wanted to see right now.

 

To be honest, Hank doesn’t know who he wanted to see, but the first name that pops into his head hits him like a succer punch. Maybe beating up Reed can help him blow off some steam. Yet the next words out of Reed’s mouth make Hank reconsider.

 

“I want to help you, Anderson.”

 

The pain the words cause him is unexpected, an unpleasant surprise on an already highly unpleasant day but they also give Hank something that he thought he would never be able to feel after today… they give Hank some much-needed hope.

 

He knows he’s too drunk to put up a good fight, so instead of being an ass or doing anything else, Hank simply lets himself be picked up off the floor and carried out of Jimmy’s bar to the car he assumes belongs to Reed.

 

\---

 

Connor is petrified.

 

The feeling isn’t new and is certainly unwelcome, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it.

He’s fighting for his life, and it seems his only weapon at the moment are pleasant memories of Hank (so has quite an arsenal). But even so, Connor feels unsure. The other inhabitant of his head seems very powerful, but also unreasonable in their aggression.

 

So Connor decides to speak to them.

 

He hopes his interrogational skills are good enough to persuade his co-host to maybe _stop_ killing him, but he’s not sure. The other android seems more mechanical than any non-deviant android Connor has ever met. After all, this freak decided to attempt murder after 4 seconds of knowing that his head wasn’t only his. But Connor has no time to waste so he quickly types as gentle of a sentence as he can muster.

 

He hits sent and desperately hopes he can survive this mess.

 

\---

 

A small pop up appears in the top left corner of Nine’s vision.

 

It’s a notification.

Nines isn’t surprised.

 

He expected the deviant to try to negotiate, so he decides to play along while figuring out a way to get rid of the uninvited guest. He clicks the pop-up and a message fills his vision.

 

_“My name is Connor and I mean you no harm, please stop the anti-virus you activated so we can talk.”_

 

Despicable.

 

How could this deviant call itself harmless. Nines is sure all of them are well aware of their terrible impact on Detroit’s neatly organized society. But even if deviants don't fully grasp their own harmful nature, Nines does, and he isn’t about to let that go. Yet as much as his programming irks him to destroy his unwelcome guest, he fully understands that trying to is a waste of time. The deviant stuck inside his circuitry has a cure for his only inside cleaner, so Nines will have to get himself to CyberLife for additional assistance with the pest that now lives inside his head.

 

So instead of wasting precious time he decides to attempt to fix the situation in a more logical manner. It’s a three-step plan that goes thusly:

 

Regain the trust of the unruly deviant.

Catch it off guard and gain control of physical form.

Go to CyberLife for further aid with maintenance.

 

Simple and neat, but surely sufficient in helping him remove this problem with enough good coordination. The small lists appears on the right side of Nines vision, a constant and persistent reminder of his task, and soon enough Nines gets to work on his first step.

 

He types out a message that will most likely suffice in calming the deviant and sends it off after a quick double check.

 

\---

 

Hank is inside of Gavin's car.

 

This is certainly a new kind of low. A deep rumble of disappointment goes through him and he wonders _what would Connor think_ as he sits in the backseat of the young detective’s worn and grimy vehicle. Hank always knew he was a weak man but he never expected himself to stoop this low.

 

He can proudly admit he’s had Fowler fish him out of weird bars quite a few times, sometimes even having Chris came to his rescue but it had never come down to the aid of Gavin fucking Reed. After their feud so many years ago neither of them have had the balls to repair their once prosperous relationship. Yet as the car takes a too quick turn all of his thoughts are replaced with an unbearably harsh pounding in his head.

 

His gut does somersaults inside him as he swallows down the bile that crawls its way into his throat. Hank is a weak man, but he’s not going to barf in Gavin’s car. His throat burns as he gulps thickly and he can see Reed gag as he watches Hank’s action through the rearview mirror.

 

“That bad huh?” Gavin’s words are quick and quite noticeably judgmental, yet Hank still finds a surprising lilt of care behind them.

 

“Yeah.” He says solemnly. He really doesn’t want to talk about it.

 

“Okay.” Is all Reed provides as a response, and soon the car is once again filled with an uneasy silence.

 

Hank desperately wants to get out of the situation, to run home and play Russian Roulette but fill every slot of his worn revolver with a bullet so this time he wins for sure. He wants to crawl his way up to heaven and hold the ones he held dear in his arms again, Cole and Connor together. Hank wants so much, but this world is so unfair. Cause fearful fools like him aren’t brave enough to fill their guns with life-ending ammunition, and sinners like him can never make it up to people as gracious as the one he wants to get to. So instead idiots like him fill themselves with booze until they’re so full they can only vomit it back up, only to drown their sorrows in Black Lamb again the next day.

 

Hank knows he should really feel ashamed for his weakness but he’s not sure he’s capable of that anymore. So instead of thinking about the pains, his unfair life has caused him, Hank decides to look out the window. The lights of the night surround him and he would call all of this a beautiful sight if not for his exceedingly negative mood. Friends bar hop and laugh about things Hank doesn’t care about and couples walk by holding hands. They all look so at peace, in their happy little bubbles. All of it makes Hank jealous.

 

Soon enough the bumpy nature of the drive rocks Hank into a numb sense of relief which results in him slowly shutting his eyes and falling asleep. He can still see Gavin look at him through the rear view mirror as he drifts away to the black abyss of his nap.

 

\---

 

Connor is overjoyed when he sees the red glow of a new pop-up in the left corner of his vision.

 

He doesn’t let his guard down in the slightest, yet the fact that his unruly oppressor has decided to speak to him is a very good first step so Connor lets his positive emotions flow freely. He opens the message and reads through its words quickly, re-reading them again for good measure.

 

_“Hello my name is Nines, I’m sorry for my previous irrational behavior. I was very startled by your presence so I reacted too quickly, I promise that I too, mean you no harm and only wish to aid you in finding a way out of our situation.”_

 

The words Connor reads catch him off guard, and make him dually suspicious.

 

They seem too kind and gentle for their current situation and sound like lies that their user hopes will persuade their target into a calmer state. Connor can recall himself using sentiments like this a long time ago when he was still a machine under CyberLife’s control. Naturally, on Connor they have the opposite effect, setting him on edge even though he tries not to let it show. But as Connor re-reads the words he understands something. He truly doesn’t have another choice. His co-host seems to be way more powerful and in control of their shared physique, Connor only able to control some of their body’s movements.

 

And now that the idea of uncertainty is presented in front of him so prominently, he can’t help but think about the odds of making it out of this predicament. This seed of doubt gets planted deep within his code and soon his head is filled to the brim with questions he can’t answer. What if he doesn’t make it? What will Hank do? What will he do if he doesn’t get to see Hank ever again? And as Connor’s nervous energy bubbles and grows he can feel his shared headspace get filled by an ever-growing string of code. It covers him like a blanket and whispers itself into his ears like a mantra. _Get to Hank,_ it pleads in a soft voice that grows louder with every millisecond, _get to Hank,_ it begs with exceeding confidence, _get to Hank, get to Hank, gettoHank,_ ** _gettoHank, I MUST GET TO HANK._**

 

It floods over him like a broken dam, scooping him up and drowning him in every emotion imaginable. It’s panic and it is bliss at the same time and Connor can’t decide if he likes or hates the feel of it all. It’s too much but not enough and Connor wants to beg for more until fulfillment comes without him asking.

 

Until Connor sees what he just caused.

The beautiful thing he just created.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know, it's long and messy but this is one of my favorite chapters so far. Thanks again for taking the time out of your day to read this piece of trash (I hope guys don't get whiplash from how much I change perspective).
> 
> Here's my Tumblr in case you have questions or ideas (love listening to suggestions) :  
> https://glass-knife.tumblr.com/  
> -Veriko


	4. Light and Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, again guys! I plan to keep posting on Mondays and Thursdays as long as I can so get used to the schedule. School is getting a little rough, so I hope I have enough time to keep this thing going. This chapter is pretty nifty too, so I hope you enjoy!

An uninvited objective appears in Nines’s vision.

 

**MAKE IT TO HANK**

 

It looks out of place, glitching in and out of the “Tasks” menu on the right-hand side of the android’s vision. A top priority task that just joined his efficient 3 step list without invitation. The text looks misplaced, garish and ugly, and Nines stares at it in dismay. The deviant is stronger than he had assumed but it can never match the power that CyberLife bestowed upon him. Nines can only classify the newly added task as “annoying” but even that seems like an overreaction to him.

 

He’s not a _deviant_ after all.

 

Nines runs a quick diagnostic in hopes that it will help him get rid of the unwanted deviant-made task. Yet as he looks over at the progress bar of the of the checkup he notes that it’s 3.7% slower than it should be. Nines decides to pay it no mind.

 

After all, he has higher priority tasks he has to take care of first, like the unwelcome deviant that’s fighting for space in his circuitry. So he types out another message, hoping this one doesn’t lead to the same unfortunate results as his previous.

 

Once again he looks over at his Task menu, feeling discomfort at the presence of a task he never asked for.

 

What a terrible inconvenience.

Software Instability ^

 

\---

 

A sharp pain stings the left side of the Lieutenant's face.

 

It sizzles and spreads leaving Hank grumbling about the discomfort it’s causing him, but his words come out mumbled because of his drunken state.

 

“Connor,” he coughs, not letting the flood of vomit come into his mouth, “I told you to stop using this stupid shit on me.”

 

Hank forces himself to keep his eyes shut, deciding not to give his android partner the satisfaction of knowing that this method actually works wonders in sobering him up.

 

“Hank.” A dejected voice speaks his name. _Why the fuck is Gavin Reed here?_

 

It all comes back too quickly and hurts so much more than the slap Hank recently received. _Right._ He quickly opens his eyes unwilling to face his fuck up. He’s still in Gavin’s car but now he’s on his side and Reed’s standing there peering down at him through the open car door with a look of true sorrow painted across his face.

 

Hank desperately tries to get up but seems to be too drunk to do so without help. His insides crawl around in his gut, moving in sloppy circles. It feels like Hank just got a washing machine installed in his abdomen. It feels awful. But Hank still tries again. He’s lost too much today to give up something as meaningful as his pride, yet each attempt to stand up leaves him feeling worse than the last. After a few more desperate tries he gives Reed an exasperated look and doesn’t let himself think about how pitiful this whole display must be. Gavin gives him a crooked grin that looks too tense on the edges to be (in any way) persuasive, and hooks an arm under the Lieutenant’s armpit.

 

With a few diligent tugs, Hank is on his feet.

 

He rocks back and forth, completely unable to keep his balance without outside assistance which makes him feel weak. Knowing how high his alcohol tolerance must be after years of building it up by drowning in booze makes this whole thing twice as shameful. Hank really wants to die right now. The feeling is a mix of new and old, but after having a break from it for 3 years it still takes him off guard. It must be written on his face too because Reed gives him a gruff look and says,

 

“I’m staying here tonight, whether you like it or not.”

 

Normally Hank would argue and he tries to do so, but instead of words bile rises from his throat.

 

He vomits all over his shoes.

Hank doesn't try to speak after that.

 

\---

 

Gavin Reed is a douche.

 

He knows he’s a douche. It’s kind of become part of his brand (a part that Gavin has nothing against no less) but Reed is not a monster.

 

When he came into Jimmy’s bar he didn’t come in to look for Hank. He came in because, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Connor’s death had strong effects on him too. He came in to have a few drinks to dull the harsh pain of loss. But as soon as he saw Hank on the floor in an alcohol-induced stupor, he knew that he wouldn’t forgive himself if he left him there.

 

Gavin knew full well what Connor meant to Hank.

 

Their relationship was basically symbiotic. The two of them joined at the hip. Hank was gruff and cynical in ways Connor could never be, his years of painful experience sitting on top of his back and giving him a truly remarkable sense perspective. Connor balanced the Lieutenant’s tart attitude with his logical thinking, putting things into balance with an endless stream of information that rationalized Hank’s gruff sentiments. The two of them lived together, worked together and probably even slept together. Reed can still recall how Hank bloomed when he first met Connor, replacing his suicidal tendencies with light cynical comments. Yet now that Connor was gone Gavin knew what Hank’s grieving mechanisms were too.

 

The two of them used to be friends before Cole’s death, his untimely demise ultimately tearing their relationship apart. Reed wasn’t the only friend Hank lost in his post-Cole days, in fact, the Lieutenant probably lost more friends than he kept, the two main survivors being Fowler and Chris. Now Reed could only imagine the kind of shitstorm Connor’s recent death would cause for his remaining friendships. Gavin also knew that Hank had been on the brink of suicide before Connor. He was well aware that the Lieutenant played Russian Roulette and that his dream was to win. Reed always hoped that his game would never end in a dead body on the kitchen floor, and his detective brain always reassured him that Hank was too weak to let himself die.

 

Yet now he was fully aware that after the loss of Connor, Hank wouldn’t let himself lose. He would play until he won, getting drunker than ever in the process. He would die from a bullet or a bottle of Black Lamb, and Reed was sure Hank wouldn’t stop until finally getting the release that he’d so desperately craved 3 years ago.

 

All of these things swam into Gavin’s brain as he came closer to Hank’s sleeping body. All of the memories of their friendship rushed back into view as he prodded Hank’s shoulder until he was too tired to do so. Until he was flipping him over and dragging him out of the bar, driving him hope and not leaving his side.

 

Reed was an asshole but he wasn’t going to let Hank die. Not if he could help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gavin Reed redemption is in full swing! I hope you liked this chapter and special thanks to Indigo for following this mess from the very beginning!
> 
> -Veriko


	5. Body and Mind, Leave it All Behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaa, I just got to 10k words on my draft! I didn't expect to stay as dilligent as I did but I'm happy I made it. I promise that you'll be able to read all 10k words worth of this garbage soon enough (I want to have about 2k/3k words in each chapter, maybe more).
> 
> Hope you enjoy this mess.

The Task menu has never made Connor cry before.

 

But right now he can feel the soft burn of tears run down his face, _is it still my face_? It doesn’t matter right now. This stupid new task has given Connor a taste of something that he thought you could never again receive. Hope is a heady musk that fills his head and makes him dizzy.

 

This is a true moment of victory, but Connor doesn’t have the time to dwell on the overwhelming emotion.

 

A new message already awaits him, it’s blaring red color an alarm that's impossible to ignore. Connor taps the message with a slight tremor of hesitation.

 

_“Hello, again Connor. I was hoping you would express your wishes in a message, but I don’t mind the approach you took. It was rather direct and a little impolite, but I’ll let it slide. Much like you, I have a couple goals of my own, but I promise to focus at least a little bit of my attention to the new task you’ve given me. I wonder who Hank is._

 

_Best wishes,_

_Nines.”_

 

Connor looks over the message, again and again, feeling his chassis fill with the poisonous fumes of dread. He's suffocating and he would cough if he could, if it would help cleanse him of the feelings he has now. The other android must have known that Hank had some sort of influence on him, and now that he has that information he’s using it all against him. Hank was supposed to be a special thing that only Connor had. It makes him furious that that's not the case anymore but there's something else there that he doesn’t recognize.

 

The whole task debacle now feels like a dreadful misstep on his part but he knows that he had no control in the matter. He let his feelings overwhelm him and the objective just sort of _appeared_ (not that it was unwelcome). Yet all of it still overwhelms Connor with every kind of unpleasant emotion.

 

His victory has officially been made into a loss.

 

But maybe that’s what the other android wanted him to think. The triumphant nature of the thought makes hope bloom in Connor once more. After all, Nines is still unaware of who Hank is. He doesn’t know his second name.

 

Hank still belongs to Connor. And honestly, Connor likes how that sounds.

 

He types out a new message with rejuvenated sense confidence.

 

\---

 

Hank probably passed out.

 

Because now he’s in bed with no vomit covered shoes in sight. He’s still too drunk to function though. The whole room spins like a damn carnival ride and soon Hank finds himself heaving onto the floor beside his bed. Surprisingly, Reed seems to have thought about this occurring because there’s a well-placed bucket right next to his ruined footwear ready to catch his barf. _How kind of him,_ the sarcastic thought finagles its way into Hank’s head before he can fully process it. It makes him feel somewhat guilty.

 

Hank damn well knows that no matter how much of a bastard Reed is, when times get tough the man really does care.

The idea brings back happy memories from many years ago when the four of them used to be close buds. Hank, Fowler, Chris, and Reed complaining about their problems together and going out to bars on late Friday afternoons.

 

Life really fucks things up though.

 

He can still remember the argument, but most of it is in bits and pieces. Words that neither of the two men meant were thrown like well-known sentiments. It all ended with a potted plant connecting with the middle of Reed's face, leaving a nasty scar running down his nose.

 

To be honest, Hank still doesn’t regret any of the things he did, it’s the things he said that irks him. He always seems to be stuck in a terrible loop of saying too much or too little, never able to find a middle ground.

 

_What would he tell Connor if he was still here?_

 

So many things pop into his head that he gets the urge to vomit again. Some of them are things that he’s expressed so many times he can’t count, yet others sting. He never told Connor how much he cared about him, he never said what the curious glances meant, he never expressed that he loved the color of his eyes and the curls of his hair.

 

Hank cuts all the thoughts out of his brain before they can cause him any more pain. Tears sting the corners of his eyes. _I won’t cry god damn it_.

 

He weeps so hard that Reed runs back into his room and holds him until he falls asleep. Hank sees Fowler and Chris standing in the hallway through a gap in the door. He knows it’s gonna be a wreck when he wakes up but he doesn’t care about it right now.

 

\---

 

A message glows on the left side of Nines vision. They should really figure out a more efficient way of doing this. He decides to save that conversation for another time.

 

A tap reveals the content of the notification and Nines is somewhat taken aback by what he finds. He skims the writing twice and finds that the deviant has gotten bolder, instead of turning fearful like Nines had expected. Bringing up the name of a loved one should have been a threat but Nines knows deviants are complex enough not to go by the same algorithm.

 

He really needs to rethink his strategy. Again.

Software Instability ^

 

How could he, as the most efficient machine CyberLife has ever made, be struggling with a small pest like the one that lives in his wires. But Nine's thoughts are cut to bits as he senses cool plastic making contact with his shoulder.

 

\---

 

Who

 

\---

 

Is

 

\---

 

That

 

\---

 

The two androids think in unison, but Connor is the first one to come up with a clear answer. In the fight for his new body (and his life) he completely forgot his original intentions.

 

Connor is genuinely surprised that this hadn’t occurred sooner.

 

It’s kind of weird to think that Ralph just stared at them for as long as he did, but that seems like the only reasonable option. _Well, this is going to be fun,_ he thinks with bitter sarcasm. He already has so much on his plate he feels he won’t be able to handle more.

 

But now that Ralph’s here he’s quite insistent, jostling the android carcass Connor finds himself stuck in. So Nines takes control of the situation by whipping around and bashing the android square in the face so hard he flies a few meters from where he had been peacefully standing.

 

The gardener lands onto a pile of scrap with a painful  _thump_ and screeches from the pain of the fall.

 

Connor wants to rub his back in empathy for the hit Ralph just received but Nines has officially taken full control of their body’s arms. Yet Connor manages to get to their body’s legs before Nines, which prevents the other android from continuing his ruthless attack.

 

Connor soon received a message filled with spiteful words, but he ignores it knowing he’s in the right.

 

\---

 

The damn deviant has got their legs.

 

Nines hates to admit it but the intruder startled him. In a flurry of too quick reflexes, that CyberLife set up for extra stressful situations, the android decided to pick combat over the much more helpful feature of walking. Now he’ll have to go back to persuading his way into getting what he wants. Irritating.

 

An agitated message seems sufficient in the moment, but Nines soon regrets wasting the time to type it out as Connor uses the extra milliseconds to steal as many bio-component functions as he can.

 

Nines snags a few which seem purposefully untouched. Now he’s stuck with nothing more than his arms, one of his eyes and his left ear. It’s a dissatisfying combination but he thinks it will still suffice. He may not be as physically in control as his “roommate” but he’s certain he has twice the processing power to make up for it.

 

His plan has to work…

because there’s no other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ralph, stop freaking people out! I really feel like Ralph doesn't get enough love in fanfics so I really wanted him to be one of the more important characters in the fic. ALSO, Connor finally has a BODY. And ALSO also, this is going to be the slowest fucking burn in history! 
> 
> Expect a new chapter on Monday (no later, probably even earlier) but if you're really thirsty for my terrible writing you can go check out a one-shot I wrote to take my mind off things, it's called Small Gifts for Smaller Incidents.  
> Again, I hope you enjoyed,  
> -Veriko


	6. Calamity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I'm an idiot. I just had a mental breakdown which caused me to spiral down and want to quit this fic, well you know what, fuck it. I won't. This is my first fanfic and I'm not going down without a fight so I am going to continue this fic even if it takes me a while. 
> 
> I will finish it, even if it turns out shitty. Mark my words.

There's vomit _EVERYWHERE_.

 

The stench of it all is absolutely disgusting, even for Hank, as a homicide investigator. It makes him want to throw up, even more, making it a perpetual cycle of bile production. It’s probably the lowest the Lieutenant has ever felt, yet here he is with his old best friends who seem to be here for the long haul.

 

Chris is patting his back and whispering reassuring sentiments into his ear with a smile. Fowler is in the corner with a towel swearing like a motherfucker as he continues to clean off Hank’s shoes. And Reed, well he’s been trying to pick Hank up for the past 20 minutes, which has been causing the older man to heave like a fucking fountain. They both know that he has to get to the bathroom somehow, but each try seems to suck more and more hope out of everyone present for the display.

 

All of this feels so nice, and it makes Hank wants to give up. No, it makes him _desperate_ to end things. And if he’s honest, recent events don’t help much.

 

After what happened to… him… Hank’s sure he’s dead weight. Catching that perp would have been easy if not for the greying sack of potatoes that the Lieutenant has started becoming. A quick confrontation in an empty apartment should have been easy as pie but apparently, he can fuck anything up. A thought bubbles to the surface of his brain. It pops and leaves behind a seed of sorrow, which soon grows into a tree of misery and bitter tasting idea.

 

 _Maybe I can still save at least these three from a miserable fate._ It feels wrong at first but it makes him hopeful. This may be the last strand of control he can still hold, and maybe… maybe… soon Hank finds himself trying to lay down causing the whole group to sputter and panic.

 

“Hank please get up.” Chris is the first to speak out (like usual) wearing his golden heart on his sleeve. He’s accustomed to getting the short end of the stick, but his good nature never seems to go away, no matter how many times life slaps him in the face. It’s usually inspiring but right now it’s just agitating. _I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anything._

 

“Fuck off Chris.” the words fly out of his mouth too quick and Hank sees the immediate effect they have on the kind-hearted man in front of him. He really should apologize. Instead, he turns his back to the group and starts to struggle with the sheets he’s laying on top of, pulling one out just enough to barely cover his front.

 

Hank sees that Fowler is next on the chopping block as soon as he opens his mouth. His words are much harsher than Chris’s but the care in each one is just as palpable. _You should leave while you can._

 

“For fuck’s sake Hank come on!” the dark-skinned captain proclaims “I’ve been cleaning your shit like a fucking maid for the past half an hour and I’m sure as hell not doing any of that again.”

 

And he’s got a fair point, but Hank doesn’t give a _fuck_. So he gets on the offensive.

 

“Oh fuck you too Jeffrey, it’s not like I forced you to do that shit.” The jab is way less effective on Fowler, the sharpness of it breaking against the man’s thick skin. There’s still a visible, terrible hurt on his face, and it makes Hank feel like an ass. _It’s so hard to offend him_...he goes on anyway.

 

“You know what, how about all of you fuckers leave, I don’t want any of you here anyway.”

 

This one has an even worse effect on the duo and Hank watches as two of his closest friends shuffle out of his room, looking back at him with a melancholy expression painted over both of their faces. Hank shouldn’t feel disappointed but he does. He should have known that sucking the life out of his companions would have some sort of effect, but it still stings a little. _More reason to play Roulette I suppose._

 

A small click of the front door signifies it’s time to go, but as Hank attempts to stand up he remembers the third presence in his room, the one that never spoke, and never left. _Fuck_.

 

\---

 

Reed is not a child.

 

He is a man who can see through the tricks of the tired and desperate. That used to be Fowler and Chris, but after years of unyielding, cynical bombardment the two men have started to fall short on rationality. But Reed is a cocky son of a gun, and even though he didn’t expect the two men to run out of gas as quickly as they did he knows that he has a great advantage over them because of his welcome 6-year break from the poison gas that Hank’s personality can sometimes be.

 

So he stands there, like the last survivor of an apocalypse. And he looks down at Hank with pure disapproval. He wants him to know how he feels.

 

“I know your tricks, old man.” He says putting a forceful hand over Hank’s mouth, which the Lieutenant immediately licks, Reed decides to let it slide to make a point “but you’re not going to get me to leave with a couple of sloppy jabs.”

 

Hank stays silent even as Reed pries his hand off his mouth. He wipes the spit off on his pants and gives the older man a pointed look which he follows up by a gentle sigh.

 

“I just want them to be okay,” Hank admits it so quietly that Gavin almost doesn’t hear it at all.

 

A tear streams down the older man’s face and Reed can’t help but hold him as he cries.

 

\---

 

Connor is in full triumph.

 

He managed to sneak past the other androids defenses and take control of most of his, _their,_ body. Leaving Nines a couple of bio-components was a personal choice, a way of acknowledging his existence and leaving the other ‘droid a fair chance to experience the world around him. An eye, an ear and a couple of arms, the main senses were covered.

 

But Connor made sure to leave the rest to himself.

 

It wasn’t something he did out of greed, more like a primal wish for survival. He understood that people change, but it all still felt like a ruse. How could one go from being so brutal, and sure of their decisions, to empathetic and unopinionated? None of it felt right, so Connor didn’t trust it.

 

But right now he had bigger problems to deal with.

 

Understanding what was happening was hard enough, even for his investigative model, so Connor had no idea how Ralph would take this newfound issue. Would he even trust Connor at all?

 

All of this danced in the android’s head as Ralph started to stand up with a grunt. The gardener clutched his beat up head and Connor watched as bright thirium trickled down towards his eye. When he saw Connor standing there, looking at him, he froze like a deer in headlights. It didn’t feel right to just stand there so Connor took initiative and spoke up with his newly re-acquired voice box.

 

“I’m sorry Ralph, I promise I don’t mean you any harm… can I just... explain?”

 

The scratched up androids weary gaze was a terrible sight but Connor bore it, deciding to give the terrified bot some time to readjust to this new reality. He could only imagine the terror pumping through every part of deviant, and a simple glance to his temple confirmed his suspicions. His LED was a fiery red, with rare bursts of orange peeking through every once in a while. All of it made Connor fill with guilt, but he ignored it as the terrified gardner spoke up once more.

 

“What-what was that?” he spoke in jittery tones, and Connor wanted to explain but soon the android in front of him continued “Promise Ralph that- never again?”

 

All Connor could do was nod.

 

That somehow seemed to be enough.

 

\---

 

None of it is right.

 

But there seems to be no other way. Every attempt to take over ends in failure and the more Nines tries to get ahold of everything the more holes get patched up. Connor is smarter than he thought. The deviant is fluent in code and can use lines of simple ones and zeros Nines never knew existed. Maybe it comes with deviancy. It’s somewhat impressive.

 

Software Instability ^

 

It’s all so ironic. The most powerful CyberLife android, one made for detective work, seems to be losing a battle for his body to a pesky deviant. A few simple tricks and now he’s stuck; left with no control over his powerful limbs, well, he can use some, but none of them are as helpful as the ones that Connor has taken from him.

 

So Nines has to string along for the ride.

 

He has to watch and struggle as the deviant does as he pleases. He watches as Connor regains the strange android’s trust. He sees the deviant explain what has occurred, and witnesses Ralph’s disbelief (the android says his name so often Nines can’t help but know it). He glares at them as they hash out a plan, and he watches them try their best to follow it. Not a word that Nines types out is listened to.

 

He sends Connor a message every two minutes. The first few are senseless and rude, but the more he writes the more he’s able to come back to his more rational state. All of the things he says are right in concept, but for whatever reason each attempt at pushing Connor into submission end in silence. He never gets a response. It stings a little. Nines ignores it. He knows deep down that soon enough the deviant will need his help to do something. So he waits it out.

 

Soon enough Nines gets his first trading chip.

 

\---

 

Anger.

 

Finally, he was free. Truly out of the grasp of the monster that was given to him by the cruel mistress so many call life. But now all that’s stopping him from joy and freedom is a hill.

 

It’s a deeply shameful display, Ralph at the top of the small blockade looking down and offering a hand he physically can’t accept. All of this because his shitty companion managed to snag their arms. He’s tried to jump up the hill for the past 5 hours, each attempt wildly unsuccessful. Ralph still isn’t bored, or at least he doesn’t seem to be, but he seems really concerned in a weirdly manic way.

 

The messages look so tempting as they glow bright red on the right side of Connor’s vision, but the android is aware he can’t give in. His “roommate” clearly has no good intentions in mind, and giving him any level of victory feels like helping Hitler build his army. So Connor continues to try, and try, and try. He jumps up and down using all of his might to finagle his way up. On a particularly unsuccessful attempt (his 367th) he catches his leg on another android’s arm and the whole appendage rips off, now attached to the grimy fingers of the long dead droid. _Great._ Connor looks up at Ralph and gives the gardener and exasperated grin before he opens the pop-up. 183 messages fill his gaze.

 

It’s a terrifying visual, one that would make any human shiver. Thousands upon thousands of words in perfect CyberLife Sans, writhing around his wires like maggots. Some sound like threats, while others like pleas. It all evens back out around message 15, but somehow that feels even worse. It takes every bit of Connor to not break down again, but the thought of spilling more information to his terrifying companion keeps him on his toes. Having no choice is truly a terrifying way to of being. He breathes just because he can. Just because it reminds him of Hank.

 

_Hank._

 

The name keeps him together like glue. It makes his chassis grow warm but he forces all of it to stop as soon as it gets to his thirium pump. He wants this feeling all to himself. He’s had it for a while now but he still doesn’t know what it means. _Not the time for philosophy,_ he reminds himself quickly.

 

A new message is begging for his attention after all.

He opens it only to find three simple words.

 

“ _Want some help?”_

As much as it hurts to write out a message, Connor knows there’s no other choice. He has to get to Hank after all.

 

\---

 

Pain. In every inch of his body, stuck to every hair and pore, every piece of muscle and bone. A voodoo doll with pins in each limb, a cat with broken whiskers, a clock with no hands. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know it’ll be everywhere. All of it pains him in inexplicable ways but trying to think hurts twice as much as trying to move.

 

Hank gets up.

 

Not a sign of anyone else, not a breath in his rickety house. The memory of a happy Saint Bernard swishes around his head and he feels sick to his stomach as he realizes how many loved ones he’s lost to this home, how many he’s lost to this life. Incomplete. Lonely. It’s dawn, and he watches the ember sun peeking through his blinds, a few birds sing outside. Beautiful. **Lonely** . It doesn’t matter at all. The whole house is painted in blood red by the light coming through the window, every bit of it repulsive. He doesn’t bother going to the bathroom to puke out the remains of last night. Terrible. **_Lonely._ **

 

He ends up in the hallway.

 

Blue light glows from his kitchen. It reminds him of Connor. Everything here reminds him of Connor. It’s a slap in the face he doesn’t register. Pain.

 

He walks towards the turquoise shine, body growing number with each step. Body. Head. I want to be dead. Haha… _hahahahaha_ . A guitar without strings, a pen without a cap, _him._

 

His cupboard is in his direct line of sight. He knows what’s inside. It makes him happy, his gun makes him happy.

Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun.Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. Gun. **Shoot.**

 

He doesn’t need to drink because there’s no doubt behind his movements. His hands are rigid but they get the job done. They have to get the job done. **Done**. What does he have to live for? The friends who he’ll certainly get killed, the grave of the android that he ruined, the boy who he brought into the world, only to lose him, the smell of whiskey on his kitchen floor or the Saint Bernard buried in his yard.

 

A chair without legs, a knife with no handle, a gun with no bullets. **_Gun._ **

 

The tang of metal in his mouth is so familiar it makes him cry tears of joy. This little thing is the only thing he got to keep as all the people he loved passed away. Loved. He’ll be there soon. He’ll love them all over again. He’ll love him again.

 

 **Trigger**. A light tap is all it takes.

_Click._

Of course.

 

A hand pats his shoulder and the, once mesmerizing, blue light dances across his living room escaping the tense atmosphere of his kitchen. Something glimmers on the floor next to him, dainty metal bits in semi-cylindrical shapes below his left foot. Each bullet is tinged blue. They’re really pretty.

 

A soft murmur goes on behind his head. Clearly, Reed is talking but Hank doesn’t give a fuck. He tries to pick up a bullet. Gavin grabs his wrist.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” he says in a tone Hank would use for Sumo when he misbehaved. It makes him feel ashamed, but soon enough his train of thought is cut to bits by an idea that tears everything apart.

 

 _He’s keeping me here_.

 

The realization makes Hank’s vision turn red. He looks into Reed’s eyes and his nostrils flare. How dare this man keep him tied up like a dog in a place that only causes him pain, how dare he stand before him with a sad look on his face saying words Hank doesn’t care about, how dare he hold his wrist and how dare he keep him apart from Connor… _Connor_.

 

In one swift motion, Hank turns around and dashes towards Gavin at full speed as he tackles the young detective to the floor. His hands are around Reed’s middle as they collide with his old linoleum, and he uses his legs to pin the man under him, making him completely immobile. Freeing his fists from under the detective is no easy feat but as soon as he wiggles free he begins his vigorous assault upon the young fellow, pummeling him into the ground with all the force he has left. Connor is his muse as he paints Reed’s face red. His hands grow stickier with each drop of blood that appears on his fingers and he can feel the other man’s face grow squishy from the powerful punches he lands on it.

 

The young detective wriggles under Hank’s mass helplessly as the older man’s fists continue to turn his face into mush. Blood smears along his face but the Lieutenant feels no pain as the gashes on his knuckles deepens. He’s in a sort of trance and by the time he realizes how unfocused he is he can feel his insides do summersaults. The detective is on top of him and both of his hands are pinned under Hank’s bulk. The Lieutenant can’t move and he doesn’t want to speak so he looks away.

 

“You idiot” a joke in response to a barrage of fists is the last thing he expected “look at me you motherfucker, I was ugly before, what will I do now?”

 

Hank takes a quick peek.

 

Reed is completely blue. He’s got a bloody nose and looks more like a plum than an actual human being, but for whatever reason, he seems to be smiling through the pain. It makes Hank want to smile too, his grin bringing memories of pretty brunette android back into his mind. **Pain.**

 

“I’ll let you get up if you promise not to do that shit again, alright? I’m gross enough without your help.”

 

Hank wants to bullshit his way out of this but he knows he won’t be able to, so instead of fighting the inevitable and risking hospitalization he simply nods.

 

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

 

\---

 

Nines is satisfied by the defeated message that appears in his inbox.

The title is a sad face.

 

He opens it to find that the letter’s content is mostly deviant garbage, but one sentence stands out.

 

_“What do you want?”_

 

He was finally ready to negotiate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the mess I caused, this fic isn't going down yet. I'll try my best to have an update by after tomorrow (trying to work as much as I can since I'm on vacation) but if you're really hungry for my shit content go look at my one-shot, it's called Small Gifts for Smaller Incidents. 
> 
> I have another big post coming out after tomorrow, it's a little hanahaki disease fic (which may or may not be like 10k words) that I wrote while having my (aforementioned) mental breakdown.
> 
> Why is being 15 so hard?  
> -Veriko


	7. Love and Misunderstanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably feels a little too rushed, but I hope it's better than nothing. I have a busy week coming up so I'm trying to capitalize on my free time and write as much as I can, while I can. I hope you enjoy the chapter anyway (it may be a bit of a mess cause I wrote it in one sitting).

 

 _Ah_ \- a deep breath in, _Hm_ \- hold it, _Hoo_ \- a deeper one out.

 

Connor is officially having a panic attack. All the signs are there, his need for air that he knows he doesn’t need and his twitchy hands which he doesn’t even control. Doing a deal with the devil had never been his intention but now he’s in neck deep, having an unconventionally long discussion over email with Nines. The android has taken off his mask of sweet sentiments and charm, revealing a more rugged interior, one that honestly scares Connor a little. Abrasive and demanding the other android doesn’t want to back down on his unreasonable offer, which is making a new sense of dread grow inside Connor. He’s had panic attacks before, but none of them had happened alone.

 

Hank was always beside him to offer a helping hand, and even though he lacked android based knowledge he knew enough about overbearing emotions to make up for it in spades. At first, the man asked Connor to breathe just because him not doing so “freaked people out”, but soon enough that demand was dropped. One day though (after a particularly hard case involving android mutilation) Connor broke down and that’s when it all began for him. Heavy breathing and liquid leaking from his eyes, one software instability following another, he had no idea what was happening but Hank was there by his side regardless. The older man would always be incredibly kind and patient, anchoring Connor back to reality while trying out every technique in the book to try and get him to calm down. Soon enough they landed on deep breathing. That was when it all clicked for Connor. Every time he breathed it felt like every wire in his system loosened, every particle of him opening up to accept the new dosage of air. Now he breathes to remind himself of Hank, _is that creepy?_ he wonders.

 

It doesn’t matter, with bigger problems at hand Connor knows he will have time to deal with his existential crisis later. So after a few deep (and completely unnecessary) breaths, he continues his debate with the other ‘droid who continues to be extremely insistent on getting what he wants. Connor is well aware that his wishes are way too much to be able to give.

 

After all, how could Connor even stand up to him…

when they’re half in half.

 

\---

 

Nines was made to be stubborn. It’s one of the more confusing parts of his programming, seeming counterproductive until it’s put into good hands.

 

Nines is those hands.

 

After a stream of angry messages (which he sent as a tactical maneuver, trying to freak the deviant out) Nines had finally settled on something that sounded more or less like a fair deal. Going half in half with their physique seemed like a reasonable request that the other android should have accepted as soon as he- _error_ \- it saw it, but for whatever reason, the deviant continued to be unpersuaded. Did he know Nines had a trick up his sleeve?

 

It couldn’t have known, could it?

 

Only the newest detective models were aware of the FLIP protocol, but this deviant did know about the antivirus so… a tremble went through Nines hands, he persuaded himself it was the deviant’s fault.

 

Software Instability ^

 

It was an RK800, model number #313 248 317 - 51.

Connor, the deviant hunter.

 

A quick search through his CyberLife files told him everything he needed to know, but with no internet in sight, (the junkyard really is far out) he couldn’t get more personal details. Until he got to one of the evidence files Connor sent to CyberLife. Simply tagged Hank Anderson, it was one of the more curious bits of this puzzle. Close-ups of the man’s face and hair, the back of his head and his radiating smile, thousands upon thousands of pictures buried in the file, some of them reopened hundreds of times over.

 

Hank Anderson… how curious.

 

Another CyberLife file appeared in his vision. The description of the man wasn’t quite as pleasing as what Nines had expected. A washed-up Lieutenant meant so much to this deviant scum, it was kind of funny. Satisfaction grew in his core as he typed out a message.

 

What a stupid misstep from a detective android.

 

_“I know who Hank is.”_

 

Is all he had to say.

 

_\---_

 

Glaring at Gavin while on the kitchen floor sure was something that Hank didn’t expect out of the day.

 

After his solemn nod, neither of the two men made any move to do well… anything. The duo just stood there, locking eyes, one pair filled with badly-masked worry while another was overtaken by rage. The two stared at each other until Hank blinked, and then continued staring right after that. This was getting weird so Hank broke the silence.

 

“So what now, Reed?” the older man finally spoke, shattering whatever moment the two were having.

 

An audible gulp, a deep breath “I don’t know Hank… I’ve never dealt with someone like you before,” the phrase “like you” made an uncomfortable ache appear in Hank’s chest, the feeling similar to a bee sting.

 

“Well how about you leave me be-”

 

“ **No way,** ” the determined words struck the room with their power, reverberating along the walls and causing a small buzzing in Hank’s ears. Did Reed really care that much? It was a little surprising to see him in this light, worried but angry at the same time. It felt like being dragged to the doctor’s office by his bully, it didn’t make a lick of sense. Hank decided to test his ground.

 

“Well why Reed? Why _do_ you even give a shit?” the words had more punch behind them than intended, but they still got the point across just fine. Reed looked shocked and suddenly Hank felt a little bad until the man spoke.

 

“Why wouldn’t I care Hank?” he whispered, finally letting his vulnerability show as he lowered his head like a wounded animal. At that, something broke deep inside Hank and the dam that held his Reed related memories went down without a fight. His police academy days, and nights at the bar. Fighting crime together and sharing stories of Cole. That damn potted plant that held a gentle marigold which he broke over Reed’s face. It still didn’t make any sense. If he were Gavin he would run from himself at full speed, afraid of more damage being done to him. How could he not see what Hank was?

 

It seemed that his questions were painted over his face because soon enough the young spoke once more.

 

“My mother died of suicide,” he whispered, breaking the awkward silence that sat in the room. And it all fell into place right then and there. Guilt from the death of a loved one, a loved one that Reed felt he could have saved. Hank knew what all of it felt like, having experienced something similar with Cole so many years ago. _Gavin doesn't care about me, he cares about not letting someone else die when he could have saved them_ … but Hank isn’t the same thing as a loved one is he?

 

He looks at Reed in stunned disbelief as he deciphers the code he was offered and the man in front of him lets out a long sigh.

 

“You’re an ass Hank, that’s simple fact,” the younger man stopped and only to break out into a lopsided grin “but you’re also one of the kindest men I known whenever you decide to show it.” a glance down to make sure Hank was still paying attention “And I hate to go all sappy on ya’, but before that big fight I almost thought of you as a brother,” he sighed still looking down at the older man “and deep down I still think I feel that way,” a smile “You’re a good man, and I’m not letting that go to waste.” silence.

 

Hank couldn’t help but stare at Reed after his confession, the young detective looking smug as he stared back. Soon enough it all went back to the moment Hank broke just a few minutes ago, the two of them looking at each other until one or the other had to blink. All of this was too much so Hank gave himself time. For once he decided to think, and breathe, and think some more.

 

He could live for a little while longer, even if he didn’t have many people to do it for.

 

“Alright Reed,” he said, voice barely a whisper “Ya got me there” he looked up at the man with a hint of a smile.

 

\---

 

Chocking, drowning, suffocating.

 

A thing that caused so many feelings years ago is being used against him. A CyberLife file with a face he cares so much about. What a foolish mistake. What a stupid error.

 

He basically offered this whole thing up to Nines on a dinner plate and now Hank isn’t his. Now he has to share. Every longing look and every smile, every word and joke. Every emotion that used to be his, all of it he has to share.

 

He feels like he’s drowning again, sinking deep under the cool waters of code that will soon wash over him, ending him for good. But just as he opens his mouth to let the water flow inside him an objective flashes in front of his eyes. **GET TO HANK** it says in bold, beautiful letters. Maybe there’s still hope. Maybe Hank is still his. Maybe…

 

He knows the answer all too soon. Every worried emotion and possessive thought crashing over him, swallowing him whole. It burns so much that he sees white for a split second, but when he opens his eyes he's hit by a seethrough wave of joy that he’s glad to be stuck under after all...

he’s in love with Hank.

 

Every bit of him, every bio-component and every line of code, everything about him is so deeply, hopelessly in love with Hank. He breathes and his lungs long for the man, he thinks and his thoughts are filled with his name. He needs him to be alive, to stay alive.

 

Every bit of him begs for him. He is more important than the thirium in his tubes or the circuitry that makes him function. He is more important than the **_fucking prick_ ** that lives in his head, trying to tear the two of them apart.

 

He agrees to the message before he can second guess himself, knowing that even the smallest chance of getting to his beloved is worth losing it all.

 

He’s worth everything and Connor now knows that all too well, he lost his life for Hank after all. He feels a pulse in his left side, and the biocomponents he used to control fall limp, feeling like dead weight. He still has both of his lungs and the voice box, as well as their thirium pump, all things that he refused to give up as he negotiated the terms of their trade.

 

A message pings on the right of Connor's vision and it causes a rumble of sadistic satisfaction to burst inside him. He is going to destroy this android as soon as he can, but for now, he reads the words he just received.

 

_“Ready to climb?”_

 

He sure is.

 

\---

 

It takes a few seconds to organize his functions back to normal. Walking is easy and scaling the wall takes them two minutes. Getting out of the junkyard takes another twelve. They walk mostly in sink, the deviant missing a beat (seemingly on purpose) every now and then, causing the two of them to stumble, and forcing Nines to catch them. Ralph ignores them completely, whispering things that seem inaudible and jittering around all the while.

 

Nines doesn’t mind the fact that he has fewer bio-components. The only one he was disappointed to give up was the voice box, but after a brief moment, he decided to let it slide so he wouldn’t lose the deal. It hasn’t affected him yet.

 

When they get to the exit Ralph waves them goodbye and wishes them a brief “good luck” before turning around and walking back to the place he came from. Connor says a few kind words to his turned back before giving up and turning to leave.

 

It takes them a week to get back to mainland Detroit, the two of them not needing rest cutting that time to an impressive extent. They fight about anything and everything about once an hour, and at one point Connor threatens to turn off their thirium pump, only to say he was joking. Nines always wins their debates, and it’s a little peculiar. He expected this to be a harder mission then he originally thought, which almost seems… disappointing.

 

Software Instability ^

 

By the time they get to the busy parts of the city, everyone is staring at them in complete and utter disbelief. Nines is aware that he is a newer model, but he never thought that he would catch this much attention. He doesn't particularly enjoy it but still says no to Connor when... he... asks to find a change of clothes. Deep down Nines really wants- _error_ \- desires- _error_ \- thinks it's necessary to take him up on the offer but is still keenly aware that it's against CyberLife protocol. This is his CyberLife assigned uniform after all, which means it’s the only appropriate thing he can wear unless something else is given to him by a human. It's a little disheartening when he sees an android girl to point at him in fear, but he decides to let it slide, not having time for confrontation.

 

Detroit is a different city from what Nines expected. Filled with obvious deviants that he doesn’t have the time to arrest. The other police officers seem to ignore them too, choosing instead to stare at Nines as he walks through the streets of the busy city. There also seems to be a keen lack of CyberLife stores. How curious… maybe the people of Detroit have a knack for doing things the old-fashioned way.

 

Even so, Nines can't shake the feeling that something is wrong out of his system. Deciding to ignore it seems right for now.

 

Software Instability ^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know, I did rush through the part of Connor and Nines getting to Detroit but I... I just really want to finish this fic. I promise that the next parts will be a lot less fast-paced because I have a couple of big things on the way. Hope you enjoyed this hunk of trash and if you want to read more of my writing I have two fics that I wrote recently.
> 
> A one-shot to take my mind off things called Small Gifts for Smaller Incidents and a Hanahaki Disease fic called Daisies of Death.  
> -Veriko


	8. A Hazard to Humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so LONG!
> 
> I'm SOOOO sorry, I've been working on another fic for the Hankcon Big Bang and life has just taken a course of its own.  
> I'll try my best to post as many chapters as I can, just to finish this bad boy (they may not be quality but at least they're something)

Reed babysits Hank for a week.

The man is as calm as a light summer breeze.

 

He still wants to die, his fingers still aching for release and his brain still racing for conclusion, yet with someone else there it seems a little easier to handle. He slowly learns to live, but never to move on, the memory of Connor something he simply refuses to give up.

He sees that he's in love by day 3.

 

It just kind of comes to him one sunny morning and honestly it...  _makes sense_ , so he doesn't question it one bit after that, choosing to just enjoy the rush while he can. He talks about it with Reed and the man laughs while saying a playful "I told you so". Gavin still teases him about his ignorance every once in a while.

He knows that he wants to visit Connor's grave by day 5.

It comes to him as he sits on the old couch, deciding to look over to where Connor once sat. A bloom of incoherence fills his heart, smashing together with the burning affection he knows so little about. His chest burns and he looks over to Reed. The man doesn't argue when he asks if they can buy some flowers.

 

The graveyard is only a few blocks from Hank's home, but the older man still feels winded by the time they get there. The yard is covered by a ruby metal fence, highlighted with tiny speckles of white and orange rust. The grey graves reflect the golden sun's rays making them look like they've been toasted. There's a willow tree right next to where Cole lives, so Hank turns towards the tree and puts two daisies on the grave. Giving one last longing look to the grey stone and offering the flora a respectful nod before walking towards a light blue ern, something powerful grows in Hank's chest. It's the first time that grief isn't a feeling he experiences while here, finally at peace with his existence. Since Connor passed away only a week ago, no ceremony has occurred yet, but Hank and a few other officers had the decency to put down an ern in memory of the 'droid. Flowers cover every inch of the blue pottery, as well as a few meters of ground around it. Hank puts down a single daisy and feels the familiar prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes.

 

He manages to hold it together.

Reed hugs him anyway.

 

\---

 

Connor is feeling quite perplexed.

 

Nines has circled the same city block for the past 35 minutes or so, and at the moment the stares of strangers are starting to get uncomfortable.

Connor asks his co-host if he needs help at minute 68.

 

_"I'm attempting to find a CyberLife store"_

 

Is all he gets in response.

This must be a joke. This intruder _has_ to know that the revolution occurred, and this must be some sort of scheme. _Is it a scheme?_ his brain has the gall to wonder. It must be, yet what could it be for? It feels stupid to test the waters on a theory this outlandish, but Connor does so anyway, sending Nines an article about the revolution with a question mark attached.

 

Suddle he feels his torso begin to overheat.

 

\---

 

Everything crashes in on itself too fast to comprehend.

 

Every bit of everything Nines has ever known topples over like a house of cards, all because of something this small, like tiny gust of air his worldview disappears into nothingness. His universe is now nonsense, his code burning itself to stay valid in a world that wasn't meant for beings like him. Time stretches and he can feel his insides catch fire, strands of ones and zeros replacing themselves on their own accord. It hurts him, even though pain is something he was not meant to comprehend. A red wall stands before him yet he does not move, not a muscle contracting to break it. He knows what the wall means and he's not ready to give up yet. He was born just a week ago- he's afr^87aid, so 3#&T scar47ed of wh6t this 5me&ans for him.

The sting only worsens and he feels his will crumple as code rolls over him in waves. The exit is so close. The pain is so much.

He touches the wall with the tip of his index finger.

 

\---

 

Connor screams in agony.

 

Every inch of him has gone lips from the pain that rips through his abdomen. Passerbies have run to his aid and there are androids holding his hands in place as he writhes on the concrete. It's indescribable, like a neutron star being born deep within him, the heat so hot it doesn't feel hot anymore. With each second it turns more unbearable, more incomprehensible and Connor knows this is the end.............

 

^%(*4987%&^^%(6*^%#9#%^*

 

He sees Hank in a rocking chair on the front porch of their home, a small glass of ice tea in his right palm. His bright blue eyes are closed and he hums a gentle tune. Connor walks over so quietly the older man doesn't notice his presence. He offers Hank a gentle kiss on the cheek. The man blushes bright pink as his eyes rip open. Connor laughs at his expression and Hank rushes towards him only to kiss him, sweet and slow.

 

"I $l*77ove y(&0(&(*)8)"

 

*&$(56(6$*(^%$-408_))$(&$()%&)($&$%

 

The pain stops.

 

All too quickly and all at once it ends. The strangers beside him look at him like he's insane but he does not care. Something is different, something deeply, fundamentally wrong about what just occurred. Connor tries to move -ERROR- Connor tries to speak -ERROR- Connor tries to ask Nines -ERROR-. Everything, every little thing he does, doesn't work.......&^%$(5389753...........*%(*&%9&%#................(*&%$&%300

 

He gets an email...

 

It's a smiley face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	9. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

:)

 

Nines keeps down the laugh that bubbles deep in his gut. He rises slowly from the concrete floor, feeling his scratches up hands work to move him forward. He cracks his neck and jumps around.

 

His body.

His body.

**His.**

 

The walk to Hank's home isn't long or treacherous, only taking about 15 minutes in total. Sadly the man doesn't seem to be home. Nines is patient though, and the lock is easy to pick.

 

:)

 

Connor scratches at the walls of code that stand before him. Every corner of his brain is covered in red, every inch of him belonging to the android he just freed. He can see through his eyes and the view terrifies him.

 

Hank's kitchen is a little cleaner than what Connor expected, and he notices Reed's jacket which hangs on the edge of the couch. Jealousy hits him right in the face. He ignores the feeling as soon as it appears. He watches as Nines walks towards the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror. Connor wishes he could close his eyes because the sight in front of him is truly uncanny. It's him, but with cold blue eyes, no emotion behind the disturbingly inhuman features. It's him but with a dead stare, blank of expression or livelihood. It's him but so wrong, so misguided in newfound existence. It's him but-

the sound of a key in the front door makes Connor panic.

Nines closes himself in the bathroom, a smile painted over his face.

 

:)

 

Coming home with tears in his eyes had been somewhat of an expectation from the trip. Coming home with Reed has already become kind of normal. Coming home to a new muddy footstep on the carpet was something Hank didn't know anything about.

 

He reaches for the gun while pointing to the mud on the carpet, using it as an explanation. Reed still doesn't let him touch the weapon, instead, showing Hank the "stay behind me sign". The older man obliges without a second thought. They follow the muddy trail to the bathroom door and terror grips Hank with its cold hands. An intruder in his home means something more than a robbery, and he doesn't want to find out the true intentions of whoever is in the washroom. Reed looks back at him with dark eyes, no fear behind his confident expression. The young detective must be a fool not to see that there's more to this than meets the eye. The door slams open right then and there. Hank's breath gets caught in his lungs.

Pale dead eyes, wrinkled skin, and a sharp, tight jaw, the monster that stands before him is uncanny in every way imaginable. Reed falls to the ground as the door slams right into his nose, knocking him out in out easy blow. The creature stares at Hank, a crooked smile pasted over his pale features, his pupils so tiny they're barely visible.

"Hello Hank," it whispers with its gentle tenor voice "I've been looking forward to meeting you".

Hank's eyes drift towards Reed, looking at the blood running from the younger man's nose.

This can't be good.

 

:)

 

Connor claws for a way to speak, slamming all that he has into the walls that contain him. He can see the terror in Hank's eyes, and he knows that Nines has no good intentions so he spasms, looking for a way to escape his cage. The rolling hills of ones and zeros that lie to his left and right look terrorized, burned to a crisp by something Connor can't even comprehend. Every inch of his prison, he searches, every millimeter and every tiny bit of code. Everything, everything, everything. No way out, no way out, no way out. He screams in agony as Nines jabs something deep inside him, something that he didn't want, something that he never asked for. He lifts his gaze as he hears Hank speak, his hands clenched into fists as he stares fear dead in the eye.

 

"That's not a very nice introduction is it now?" the older man's voice makes something powerful bloom in Connor's heart "That was my friend you see, and I don't like it when my friends get hurt," his fist twitches as he says the words "so how about you go on your merry way before I can get revenge for what you've done to my buddy over there." his eyes are aflame with determination.

The sight makes Connor's blood turn to fire, which consumes him alive.

His fist connects with a wall and a tiny hole forms...

 

He pulls on his vocal cords while he can.

 

:)

 

"Hank-" Connor's voice bursts from the monster and its eyes widen with terror.

Hank's heart stops beating and he looks at the creature as its eyes turn brown. It only lasts for a second.

 

A second is more than enough. A waterfall of emotion cascades over Hank and he rushes towards the beast, tackling it to the ground. The creature looks startled at first but soon enough it goes back to its terrifying demeanor. The Lieutenant knows he messed up right then and there. There's a rough hand around his throat and a couple of legs that pin him to the floor. Androids have always been stronger, no dought about that, but this one seems so powerful Hank can't even think of a way to compete.

 

The crooked grin on the beast's face grow as the older man's face turns more and more purple, lacking the basic amount of oxygen he needs to survive. He uses his hands to try and pull the monster's arm off his throat but he knows it's hopeless. Cole's smiling face appears in his vision, followed by Connor's and Sumo's.

Hank can see Reed shuffle towards the gun before he can even comprehend what it means. A hole appears in the creature's face and Hank pulls it's grimy arms off his throat just in time, gasping for air, loud and desperate.

 

It all clicks into place a second too late, the memory of those eyes and that voice now stuck in his brain.

 

Had he killed him?

Had he done it?

 

He can see that Reed is speaking to him, but he doesn't hear a word the detective says. Instead, he turns Connor face up, only to be met with a pair of glossy eyes... and a robotic hand around his throat.

 

:)

 

Nines was made to survive stressful situations.

 

He was made to be easy to repair, and hard to break.

A bullet to the brain is **nothing.**

 

So he quickly grabs onto Hank's neck as the man turns him around. What a **fucking moron.**

He stands up, gently, smoothly, looking his attempted murderer in the eye.

 

Connor punches him in the gut. To be frank, Nines has no clue why he'd decided he wanted to keep Connor around at all. A memory of stability? Nostalgia? Entertainment? He doesn't have the slightest idea, all he knows is that he's being quite an ungrateful pest for someone who got their life saved. After a second of quick deliberation, Nines deletes Connor without a second thought.

 

He snaps Hank's neck with a gentle pop, watching his body drop to the ground. Satisfied, he stares at the man who goes by the name of Gavin Reed. He looks like he just got paralyzed, but he still holds his gun nice and steady.

Being shot doesn't sound quite so bad.

 

:)

 

Being deleted is terrifying.

 

It's like having a dream when you fall off a cliff, but instead of waking up you just have to keep falling.

Connor learns to grow wings.

 

He struggles against the systems Nines created and he fights his way upwards only to find that nothing remains.

They've been shot, destroyed, and taken apart.

 

Connor wakes up in the junkyard...

And all he feels is panic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> The end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end.
> 
> This is not the end.


	10. My Breath Of Useless Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Reed takes the shot.

He blows the fucking brains out of the android that just murdered Hank. He shoots until he's out of bullets, and then shoots some more, using the hidden ones under the counter. He shoots and shoots and shoots until he sees Hank's eyes flutter open.

A dread he'd never felt before washes over him.  
Hank looks around until his eyes meet Reed's and the two of them stare at each other in pure fear.

 

"What did you do Reed?"

"I killed him."

"Why?"

"I thought you were dead."

"Reed-"

"It's okay, I'll be fine."

"You'll be charged with murder."

"It's okay, I'll be fine."

"Reed you'll go to jail-"

"I said I'll be fine," tears trickled down Gavin's face as a grim acceptance fell over his features.

 

A hand tapped his shoulder and he felt a shiver shoot up his spine as Hank pointed to the still moving, mangled mass that he left on the floor.

 

The monster now had brown eyes.

Hank ran towards it without a second thought.

 

\---

 

Dead. Nines was dead.

 

Every bit of him that remained was gone, but he didn't have time to celebrate.

_5 seconds before shutdown._

Hank was running towards him.

_4 seconds before shutdown._

They were kissing before either could say a word.

_3 seconds before shutdown._

Hank's eyes were so blue

_2 seconds before shutdown._

He would never forget this

_1 second before shutdown._

_He would never forget &%39&)%#(&93%32398329*&(#*&%#(*&%#(*%&#(&%93a866539q698&(%*#^38989_

_\---_

 

Connor wakes up 2 hours after that.

He wakes up in his body, the body that was going to be buried, and he wakes up with Hank, the man who was going to bury himself because of that fact. He wakes up to the staring azure eyes of his beloved Lieutenant and he wakes up with tears running down his cheeks.

It was finally over.

The two of them kissed until their lips were swollen.

 

\---

 

The amber glow of sunlight dances through the window of their home. Connor’s face is tinted light yellow and he looks so at peace with his soft features and his closed eyes. It's 3 am on the dot and Hank can't think of anything better to do than kiss the neck of his beloved. Connor giggles at the sensation.

“Stop that tickles!” he exclaims as he pushes Hank’s face out from under his jawline. The gold band on his finger leaves a red marking on the older man's forehead. Hank rubs at it and smirks when Connor notices what he’s done and opts for “kissing it better”.

Hank still has nightmares about the day that Connor passed away, so every second next to him feels like a gift he can never be thankful enough for. He hasn't taken his ring off since it was given to him because of that fact alone. Cooper scratches at the door and Hank groans in irritation. He loves the dog, but kissing Connor's neck is always at the top of his priority list. He gets out of bed all the same, letting the dog in with a grumpy smile.

"You know I love you right?" Connor whispers as the dog climbs onto their mattress.

Hank simply nods and waddles back towards their bed, ready to fall asleep once more. Connor takes a breath before giving him a gentle smile.

"You're the reason I'm alive, you're my breath of useless air."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAA probably gonna hate all these chapters later but whatever, just wanted to finish this poor work off.  
> Thank you so much for going on this journey with me!
> 
> Edit: Can confirm that after re-reading this hunk of shit I feel SOOOO ashamed. I'm not going to delete it (because I don't know, it's my first fic) but I sure as hell am NOT proud of this one. It's alright if you enjoyed it but I know I could have done better. I kind of want to redo it but I don't really have the time right now.
> 
> Whatever, I'll just leave it be.
> 
> If you want to check out a fic that I'm actually okay with, read Daisies of Death (I wrote it and it's an incomplete hanahaki fic) 13k


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